Miracles
by bejome
Summary: Shakarian. Garrus ponders the fate of Shepard while facing down what may be the last days of his people on Menae. One shot.


For the moment the battlefield on Menae was quiet. Garrus took solace in the silence and allowed himself to rest against a few propped up battlement canisters, his sniper rifle lying casually over his lap. He tried very hard not to look in the direction of Palaven, where pools of fire burned away everything that his people had worked so hard to build over the thousands of years their civilization had spawned. It was hard not to, and once in a while his eyes would gaze over toward Cipritine despite his attempts to look everywhere but. It was hard to miss: the largest lake of fire and destruction visible. But from what Garrus had heard, other home worlds were faring far worse than his.

His concerns extended towards his friends, as it often did in times of quiet restlessness, whom he had heard little from since the invasion had begun.

"Earth is ten times worse than this."

Garrus peered over to his left. Two PFCs sat across from each other, sharing rations.

"You're kidding," said his friend, stopping mid bite to gawk at the statement.

The turian with red facial tattoos shook his head and scoffed.

"I never liked the humans much. Bunch of cocky bastards, but I wouldn't wish watching your home world destroyed on anyone."

The other turian, this one with white facial markings, hushed his friend.

"Some of these guys have friends back there."

"Look," said red with a frustrated hinge in his inflection. "All I said was I never liked humans much. Or at least I never met one that didn't rub me the wrong way. I didn't say I was glad for it. They're getting hit bad. Their death count surpasses our own by the millions, and that was just within the first few hours of being attacked."

"Spirits…"

Garrus' attention separated from their conversation as his focuses fled toward Earth and Shepard.

He hadn't known that Earth had been hit so severely. Spirits, Palaven had been under attack so fast he'd barely had time to hear the news of the other Council planets. Had Shepard made it out? She'd been under strict supervision and grounded, last he'd spoken with her. Would they have broken military protocol to allow her to leave for safety's sake? Would she have even left?

What if Shepard had stayed? The was she even alive? How would he be able to reach her? Communications were abysmal as they were on planet…if he sent her a message would it ever get to her? Could she get a message back to him?  
Garrus felt his throat tighten in anxiety.

Shepard was alone on Earth as far as he knew. She didn't even have the Normandy anymore. If she could escape, where would she go? Could they leave the Sol system? If Earth was being hit worse than Palaven, escape might not even be an option.

Unable to sit and stare at the destruction of his home any longer, or listen to the possibility of Shepard dying on hers, Garrus stood up and left the central encampment. The Primarch had fallen only moments ago, Earth was falling, and Garrus felt more alone and helpless than he could ever recall feeling in his life.

He decided to take some time to snipe some Husks from one of the armaments of the campsite.

"Vakarian," one of the officers jumped and saluted him at the same time.

No matter how long he was on this job, Garrus would never be used to people showing him such a commanding level of respect.

"At ease, soldier. Just relieving some tension."

"Aye, sir."

That statement left a funny taste on Garrus' tongue.

As he put a few encroaching Husks in line with his scope, he remembered the last thing he did months ago that had "eased his tension" and was suddenly struck with a sense of longing and bloodlust. Each pair of glowing eyes sent vibrations of rage down his frame, but the letting loose of each shell casing, and its meeting with each one of those bastards' skulls, eased that frustration just a little bit.

Yet as he swallowed the joy of each shot, he remembered in the back of his head that these creatures had once been humans, just as the Marauders had once been turians. He was killing remnants of human beings, people that had once meant to someone else what Shepard had meant…and still meant to him.

Garrus didn't let that slow him down. He kept at it, even as shuttles flew overhead to let in more reinforcements from Palaven. Soon he would be able to get some shut-eye, but not until he took out a few more of these bastards.

"Vakarian,"

He didn't even look up.

"Don't worry sir," he popped another heat sink between a pair of glowing eyes and reveled in the feeling of ending its putrid existence. "Just blowing off some steam."  
"No, it's not that sir. A human Alliance shuttle has just landed in range our western encampment site."

A chill hit Garrus in the stomach, momentarily distracting him, just enough so that he missed his next shot. He couldn't understand why the Alliance would be coming to the aide of the turian armies. They had to be coming for something, or to relay a vital message. Garrus swallowed his fear and did his best to steady his voice before responding.

"What do they want?"

"They're looking for the Primarch."

"The Primarch is dead."

"Yes sir. I just thought that you might like to know…"

Here it was.

With a heavy sigh Garrus picked up his sniper's rifle and turned to face the soldier, wearing as steady an expression as possible. He wasn't ready for this news, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd been told Shepard was dead.

At least this time there were no tables to flip when he was refused the right to search for her.

"Know what?"

"The person requesting the Primarch…"

"Out with it, solider. What is it?"

The young turian was clearly flustered, trying to get his message across but intimidated by the anger that Garrus was unintentionally allowing to overflow in his mannerisms. He was spared, however, when a general came walking by and shouted over them both:

"Vakarian! Your girlfriend is here!"

Garrus' gaze flew from the general back to the solider in front of him, who nodded his head in confirmation.

"…is Commander Shepard, and my commanding officers thought that you would want to know as you and the Commander were… um…_close_."

It took a few seconds for this to sink in. Not the emphasis on 'close' by the youth, nor the straight out labeling of Shepard being his 'girlfriend' (or the fact that this was apparently common knowledge amongst the turians here) but processing that Shepard was alive. Alive, and on Menae.

Garrus didn't even stop to thank the youth as he bolted toward the western encampment.


End file.
